The Silent Signal

I can't express the refreshing sweetness 

Of seeing your face, Fiona.

You fill my heart with so much joy,

You have always reminded me of our school days,

We had looked into each other's eyes.

All our innocence and shyness had dissolved into the air. 

You were a slender girl with a dark complexion and short, dark curling hair. Your big brown eyes and your long neck made other girls envious. 

You were a versatile netball player, and a writer. I found your charismatic attention to detail very fascinating.

I'll never forget that warm June afternoon, when I sat next to you on an old rusty school bench,

And I asked you to interpret the poems in the book called "Songs of Lawino".

You glanced at me strangely and you stood up and walked away.

Then, I remembered how I insulted you the other day,

I humiliated you before the literature class.

All the fuss was over your interpretation of Kamara Laye's novel, "The African Child".

Your neo-colonial argument was contrary to our collective convictions, that the writer was narrating the beauty of African tradition, and culture. 

I went after you and I apologized.

But to you, it wasn't enough, and I didn't have anything more to say.

I walked away, disheartened.

Every student hated you because of your snobbish character.

The more you repelled me, the more you attracted me.

Next, I wrote you a poem called "The Silent Signal" to express my friendship. 

I never expected a chocolate bar in my locker and a hand-crafted letter.

I was delighted with what you mentioned. I was on cloud nine!

You blessed my athletic practice with your presence. I felt excited.

You stood there in the pavilion, cheering me on.

I can't forget that time after practice, when you came to me and hugged me. 

I can still smell the soft fragrance of your body.

I held you tight and kissed you,

The whole playground went wild.

Our love has been everlasting for 25 years now and seven wonderful children along the way.

Love is patient, mysterious but also enduring.